Hoist the Colours
by Punk-Out
Summary: The later years of Lovina's life haven't been all rainbows and sunshine. Trapped in a loveless, abusive relationship with a corrupt king and forced by her husband into the arms of a pirate, she's left with no choice but the join the crew to survive. But at least those boots didn't become a victim of the night. Spamano
1. Chapter 1

_**Hoist the Colours  
**_**Pairings:** Spain/Fem!Romano, Prussia/Fem!Canada, France/England, Germany/Fem!Italy, Romano/MOC, Italy/MOC  
**Warnings:** arranged marriages, abduction, torture, probable sexual content, gender bending, slash  
**Rating:** M  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia, not even a little, nor do I own Nyotalia  
**A/N:** So, first thing; Welcome! I wanted to do a pirate AU, but I didn't want to research all the ins and outs of legit pirates so I cheated and decided to explore a dystopia where the government, post WW3, destroyed everything from before the war and the world regressed to the societal structure of 16/17nth centuries while retaining modern language. It makes it easier on me. P:  
**A/N 2:**** More warnings and chapters will be added as they become relevant.  
X**

"My lord, our countries financial situation is grows more dire by the day. We must find a way to explain the loss of tax payers dollars immediately, before the decline is noticed."

Arrigo hummed thoughtfully, stroking the days worth of patchy stubble covering his lower face. The honourifics his people used were a whim of the government, a mocking nod to history books long destroyed. Some kingdoms were more liberal, less strict with the enforcement of proper titles, but not him. King Arrigo Messina would allow no peasant nor servant to address him any less than what his station demanded.

"Sire?"

"Pirates, Rossi," Arrigo interrupted, raising one hand for silence before pointing to a large vessel anchored a few hundred yards from the docks. A life boat full of crewmates made its slow way towards mainland. "Pirates provide the perfect scapegoats. Low lives and thieves, the lot of them. Just waiting for an innocent to kidnap and ransom. And it just so happens that I have the perfect person in mind."  
***

"M'Lady, _please_!" A frantic maid lunged to catch a falling vase. "If the king sees you-"

"Fuck that bastard," Lovina spat, angrily swiping her dusting rag over the stand the case used to be on, scrubbing the already immaculate surface. "He's useless anyways. Honestly, what does that pig do for our country?"

"Please, highness, he's your husband!" She gently replaced the pottery and ran after the rampaging queen.

"All the more reason for me to call him out on his faults! He's a worthless, money grubbing tyrant with no sense of morality and an ego the size of Italy herself!" Lovina whirled about to face her handmaiden, the skirts of her borrowed dress fanning out around her and nearly upsetting te vase again. She crossed her arms and frowned, ignoring the other woman's grimace. " And I told you not to call me that. Such pompous titles make me uncomfortable."

"Apologies M- ah, Lovina."

"Thank you Isabelle. Just because I was forced into union with a despicable, piggish old pervert doesn't mean I'm better than any of Italy's citizens. I grew up in a station lower than yours, and I'm not ashamed to say it."

"I know, Roma." Isabelle smiled and rubbed a smudge of dirt from Lovina's nose. "But you must bathe and dress. Your Lord husband is expecting you for dinner in 20 minutes."

Lovina deflated and her frown softened into a pout. "Fuck."

"Come, I'll help you with your dress."

"I hate dresses," Lovina grumbled, allowing Isabelle to tug her down the hall and into her rooms.  
***

"My dear," Arrigo said, smile tight and false on his lips and his voice sickly sweet. He stood for his queen, bending to press a wet kiss to the back of her hand. "You're late. Everything all right?"

"Fine," Lovina replied tersely, pulling her hand from his clammy grip and dropping into the chair the man servant had pulled out for her, corset forcing her back straight and crushing her ribs. The nobles Arrigo had invited to dine with them looked on awkwardly before one brave soul cleared his throat and engaged the irate king in a conversation Lovina ignored. She remained silent until the main course, snippets of corruption and greed filtering into her ears.

Already flushed and shaking with anger, she nearly exploded when they set potatoes in front of her. The tantalizing scent of pasta wafted from all around her, soaked in bolognese sauce and piled with tomatoes.

Lovina stopped the servant.

"Would you mind telling me why, exactly, I was served a different meal than everyone else?" She fought to keep the anger from her voice, and did a passable job. It would've been easier had her airflow not already been restricted, but she kept her hand gentle where it rested on his forearm, eyes locked on Arrigo's stupid smirking face.

"I'm sorry, my Lady, but we ran out of the entree and this was the fastest alternative." The flustered man bowed and apologized once more before Lovina released him and motioned for him to take his leave.

"If you'll excuse me, I believe I'm quite finished." She nodded in her husbands direction and moved to leave the hall. Arrigo caught her hand before she could.

"Don't be a brat. Either eat your meal or punish the cook for his insolence. Otherwise it will keep happening."

Lovina stood, watching their main chef standing frozen in the servants entrance, clutching at a steaming plate of some sort of tomato dish. Everyone knew what the king meant when he said punishment, and it was nothing good.

"No," she said easily, shaking her fingers free and returning to her seat. "It's fine. I'm only tired. I may be getting sick."

"Then food should only help," Arrigo replied, a sly grin on his face. "Eat, love. It wouldn't do for you to come down with anything."

"As you wish, my lord." Furious, but allowing only her hands to tremble, she stabbed a forkful of potatoes ruthlessly and delicately placed them on her tongue.

She was going to be sick.

Fucking potatoes.  
***

"I'm leaving Isabelle," Lovina snapped, drawing out her luggage and stuffing in handfuls of clothes and toiletries.

"M'Lady, you can't," Isabelle insisted, stopping Lovina with a gentle hand around her bicep. "The people need you! You're the only one who can temper the king. Please."

"I temper him, you say, yet look how much havoc he's wreaked. I'm all but useless and besides, I can't handle that asshat anymore." She dropped down on the queen sized bed and rubbed her face against the down filled comforter.

"Are you mad because he made you eat potatoes?"

"Hah!" Lovina's laugh transformed into a snarl half way. "I wish it was! But I wouldn't leave my country to the mercy of a madman because of some rotten, disgusting potatoes. Not even I'm that big of a bitch."

Isabelle's eyes flicked down to where Lovina's skirts had ridden, revealing long, thin white scars webbing across her thighs and hips.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, slowly tugging down the fabric. Lovina sighed and flopped back.

"Me too." Her eyes drifted closed and a small smile spread lazily on her lips. "But hey, at least it's my night off."  
***

Ten men dressed in crudely made clothes crept down a corridor of the royal palace. Cloth covered each of their heads, scarves wound loose and tucked into the back of their linen shirts. Belts held up ill fitting pants and on them were coils of rope and tools. One had a knife tucked into his shabby leather boot. They moved together seamlessly, avoiding patches of moonlight and betraying their training. No one else traversed the halls, no one saw them as they came to a stop before the door leading to the queens chambers.

Ten men, for one woman; more a girl, teetering on the cusp of womanhood. Ricco prayed she wouldn't scream. Sandro hoped she wouldn't try to bite. Gerardo, feeling the weight of the knife against his ankle, hoped she would.

The door hinges creaked as they were eased open but the form sprawled on the bed didn't so much as twitch. They filed one by one inside, ropes slowly uncoiled, a rag and a small bottle of chloroform at the ready. Ricco peeled back the comforter, brushing back wild strands of dark auburn hair from the queens face, careful to avoid that one wayward curl. No matter ow unawares she was of you, whenever someone touched it she pitched a fit.

Hazel eyes blearily blinked open. She didn't have time to react when the soaked cloth covered her mouth and nose. Lovina's eyes dropped shut once again and didn't reopen. Sandro quickly and efficiently tied her arms and ankles and beat a hasty retreat. He wasn't willing to risk a repeat performance of her majesty's wedding night.

Gerardo grinned as he forced an improvised gag into her mouth. If he tied the cloth securing it too tight none of the others mentioned it.

When she came to Lovina was laying immobile on the hard wooden deck of a ship, the rocking waves upsetting her stomach. The ball of cloth in her mouth was pressed too far down her throat, triggering her gag reflex and distracting her from everything else. Tears sprung up in the corners of her eyes and a muffled sob escaped. She made a weak attempt to roll onto her side, shivering.

Despite her pounding, spinning head and debilitating nausea, a pair of well tailored leather boots were perfectly clear some three feat from her nose. Someone behind her loosened and removed the gag before it could cause an unhappy accident.

"If I puke of your stupid shoes I'm not apologizing," she enunciated carefully, glaring at the shiny fabric.

"Hah! Cheeky little bitch, aren't you," a german accented voice sneered behind her. "Better watch yourself little girl."

"Bite me, _stronzo_." Lovina wiggled against her bonds, sucking in a lungful of salty sea air. "Fucking Germans."

"Hey!"

"Gil. Enough." The shoes in her vision shifted and the man wearing them knelt down. Green eyes, muted and murky in the night stared down at her. "Whatever shall we do with you?"


	2. Chapter 2

_**Hoist the Colours  
**_**Pairings:** Spain/Fem!Romano, Prussia/Fem!Canada, France/England, Germany/Fem!Italy, mentions of Romano/MOC, Italy/MOC, Canada/MOC  
**Warnings:** arranged marriages, abduction, torture, probable sexual content, gender bending, slash, mentions of/implied non-con  
**Rating:** M  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia, not even a little, nor do I own Nyotalia.  
**A/N:** ***Cosita** means Little one.  
**A.B.S**: Able bodied sailor, the backbone of the ship required to know, essentially, the basics of every job on the ship.  
**Quartermaster:** The second in command from the Captain. Both are elected by the crew and could be ousted at any time with a majority vote. Francis and Gilbert share the responsibility.  
**Rigger:** The ones running around the masts making sure everything is running smoothly.  
**Maria Cristina de Borbon** was the first Italian Queen Consort in Spain so I went with her name. She was a Princess of Sicily. That makes it even more fitting in my opinion.  
**The torture method** Gil and Francis employ was a method used by Captain James Morgan during his interrogations in, at the very least, Porto Bello which was the third most important Spanish settlement and supposed to harbour vast treasures. When they attacked the Spanish took their gold and fled. Those who were caught suffered the consequences.  
**A/N 2:**** More warnings and chapters will be added as they become relevant.  
****A/N 3:** There's a lot of girl talk in this chapter... Mattea, as the only other woman on board the ship, has experiences that are much closer to what Lovina is going through. If it seems Lovi dropped her guard a little quickly it's because she has severely limited experience with women who treat her as an equal and she's already off balance from the last few hours. Beyond all that you get a back story!  
**A/N 3:** This is self-Beta'd. If anyone would like to help a girl out, I'd be much obliged! But no matter, I hope you enjoy! Questions are always welcome. ;)  
**X**

"What's going on?" Lovina asked, muscles shaking from a mix of fear and illness. The situation, obviously, was not as she had supposed. She wondered, briefly, if Arrigo's head of security, Ricco, had been a drug-induced hallucination. It seemed probable, but Gerardo's feral, demented grin hovering over his shoulder made it severely unlikely. Even in her worst nightmares, standing alongside Arrigo like an apprentice, he didn't look that twisted and lustful. The aches affirming themselves all over her body made it even more unlikely.

Fucking hell.

"I should be asking you that." Green eyes here had an accent much different from his crew member. A Spaniard. "I come home to my ship to find a pretty package all trussed up, just for me."

"Well I wouldn't if I were you," she replied as haughtily as possible with her swimming stomach. "All I know is that I was drugged, bound and gagged by who appeared to be my husbands men- scarves and slap-shod constructed masks make for pitiful concealment against someone familiar with you, even half asleep. Next thing I know I'm waking here. Care to untie me?"

"First, tell me your name."

"What do you care?" Lovina demanded, rolling her wrists against the ropes and feeling the coarse fabric chafe her skin. She wriggled once more, ignoring Green eyes' amused smile before she slumped helplessly to the deck. Her stomach roiled and her head pounded, only worsened by her pounding heart.

"My crew and I need to call you something, _cosita_. We can't just yell wench every time we need something. That would be disrespectful to royalty."

"Royalty?" The German snorted disdainfully. "This brat? Like hell. That sonovabitch Messina would've had her beheaded inside a day for her goddamn insolence."

"I'll have you know I've survived that bastard for four years now. I like to think I'm doing well," Lovina said with a sarcastic smirk. The corners of her lips shook a little too much for her peace of mind so she dropped the pretence.

The uproarious guffaws were not what she was expecting, nor did she know if they were particularly comforting. Even green eyes was snickering into his hand.

"Ah, you're cute hiding behind your sass, my lady." Green eyes sighed and chuckled a few more times and wiping a tear from his eye. "Did he punish you often for it?"

"Yes. But better me than another poor soul. I can hit him back without fearing too much retribution. Regardless of his sexist and tyrannical style of governing, I am still a figurehead the people rely on. He can injure me, but he can't kill me." She scoffed. "Piece of shit can't keep them under control. Without me to pacify them they'd overthrow him, and rightly so. Deficient as he is he knows an asset when he sees one. Now, can you kindly remove these ropes? My fingers and toes are beginning to swell."

"For you M'Lady? Of course."

**X**

"Tell me we're ransoming her," Gilbert said, kicking the door of Antonio's study shut. "I'm tell you, keeping her will only bring bad luck. If she's as useful to that ass hole as she says, he'll come for her."

"No, I don't think we will," Antonio replied, thoughtfully toying with a rosary draped over an intricately carved and painted wooden globe. It was there partly because of his religion and partly because he liked the look of them. "It's probably what he wants."

"Of course it is," Gil snorted obnoxiously, rolling his eyes. "Corrupted fuck probably spent all their money on whores and drugs. I surprised his little wife hasn't contracted something herself from all his nasty habits. So not fucking awesome."

"I will not be manipulated into serving his purposes, whatever they are. I will not allow this port to be closed to us, and our crew condemned by the people. She stays with us," Antonio said firmly.

Francis, lingering in a corner with his arms crossed and posture relaxed, smiled slyly and stepped forward. "Your strategy and logic are all well and fine, _mon ami_. But what's your real reason for keeping such a feisty creature aboard the ship?"

Antonio's guilty silence prompted a groan from Gil and a knowing chuckle from Francis. "_Really?!_" Gil demanded.

"She's adorable!" Antonio defended. He crossed his arms, frowning and huffing. Gilbert threw his hands up in defeat and stomped to Antonio's desk, throwing himself onto the bolted down swivel chair.

"You do this every time you're interested in a woman. We take her with us only to drop her sorry ass at the next port." Antonio opened his mouth to protest but was silenced by Gilbert's pointed glare. "Every. Time."

"And alas, we shall do it again." Francis rested a hand on Gil's shoulder and sent Antonio a reassuring smile. "After all, it is only proper to support our friend and Captain in all his endeavours."

"_Gracias_ Francis," Antonio said, grinning. "What I say goes and while I appreciate and respect your input, I say we're keeping her." He turned on heel and walked back out onto the deck.

"Ass," Gil muttered at Francis. "He's just going to obsess about her and probably scare her off eventually like all the others."

Francis merely tightened his grip and followed their Captain.

"Fucking people," Gil grumbled, jumping up from the seat. "How the fuck he even founded a pirate crew is beyond me, much less how he's managed to stay in charge."

**X**

When Green Eyes, the German, and a blond man standing near the rear of the group adjourned to a cabin another man, large and dark skinned, came forward to untie Lovina's bonds. Her hands and feet tingled painfully as the blood rushed back in and she groaned.

"Sorry," he said with an easy grin, lifting her to her feet. She stumbled into a crew member standing near who glared but refrained from shoving her back as he walked to a less populated area of the deck. One large hand was shoved into her vision. "My name's Carlos. Please don't mind Vash, grumpy is his natural state of being."

Lovina stared for a moment before the manners that Arrigo all but beat into her their first year of marriage took over. She grasped his hand. "I guess you can call me Lovina."

"Please to make your acquaintance, your Majesty."

Lovina wrinkled her nose and shook her head. "Don't call me that. I detest those goddamn empty titles."

"As you wish." Carlos wrapped a supportive arm around her waist when she wobbled unsteadily and tugged her towards the lower deck. "I'm sorry, but for the time being we need to keep you secured. You can sleep and rest assured no one will touch you in the cells."

"How chivalrous of you," Lovina muttered sourly, shivering in the damp of the lower decks. Her thin white nightgown offered no protection from the sea breeze and a stabbing pain in her right big toe made her think she had a splinter.

Carlos tossed his head back laughing, his loose dreads flying everywhere. One brushed the top of Lovina's head.

"You say that sarcastically," he teased, helping her settle on a ragged cot behind iron bars.

"I _was_ being sarcastic. I'm probably the only one aboard this ship who doesn't know how to pick a lock. That _definitely_ makes me feel safe." Lovina rolled her eyes. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. I'll have someone you can trust come down and keep an eye on you. Don't worry. Nothing will happen if we can help it. That's not why you're here."

"Great, good to know I'm not expected to be a penny whore around here."

"Don't be silly, no one makes pennies anymore."

Lovina grumbled and waved him away, shifting off the cot with a grimace. The wooden floor was stained dark and the ratty blanket was crusty with something she didn't wish to consider.

"Disgusting."

Clumsily she jumped between stains until she found a clean corner to crouch in. With her back against the wall she felt immeasurably more secure, though that didn't relax her muscles. A few moments after she had settled lazy footsteps tread towards her. A sleepy brunet sporting a white beret and a grey short haired cat on his shoulder rounded the corner. He yawned and dropped down against the wall across from her.

"Carlos asked me to watch you," he murmured, cuddling the cat to his chest. "My name's Hercules."

Lovina remained crouched, her chin on her knees and staring at him.

"Okay then." He sighed and closed his eyes. "Night."

"Some guard you are," Lovina whispered, voice shaking as she pouted. Tears were beginning to rise in the corners of her eyes. Everything was catching up to her; her aching body, the bruises she could feel on her hips when she pressed tentative fingers against them, the sickness that had yet to abate, her husbands willingness to sell her. And these men, who so far were being oddly polite for pirates. She had been taught from a young age not to believe that pirates were heroes, good men seeking only freedom. They were dangerous; murderers and thieves, blood thirsty killers who sought only money and goods they could sell for more money. The terrors of the sea. It didn't matter if a handful of them could pass as good people. Sooner or later the scum would reveal itself.

She closed her eyes to ward off the tears and rising hysteria and when she opened them next Hercules was gone and the flickering torches has been snuffed. She swallowed nervously, trying to wipe away the bleariness and biting her lip to prevent herself from whimpering too loudly.

"H-hello?" she called, listening carefully for any suspicious noises that might be heard over her pounding heart. She stood and stepped into the middle of the cell, wringing her hands to stop them shaking. Something near the entrance of the jail scraped. Lovina sucked in a startled break and held it.

So much for being completely safe.

When slow footsteps made their way closer her eyes filled with all the tears she had narrowly avoided shedding earlier and the persistent ache between her legs seeming to become more pronounced, more painful. She was seconds away from praying, even though her faith in God within the last few years had been reduced to near nonexistence.

The man who appeared was repulsive, even for a pirate. Stringy, greasy hair hung around his jaw, teeth rotting when he grinned. Lovina could swear she could smell it where she stood and she shuddered, stepping back.

"Now you're a lovely little thing ain'tcha?" He came closer, hand trailing to the lock. He held a lock pick between his fingers.

"Get away," Lovina commanded weakly, holding out a hand as if to stop his in his tracks. "You stay the fuck away from me or I swear I'll scream!"

"You can try baby."

The lock clicked, the door swung open and Lovina could only muster a soft whine in the back of her throat.

**X**

Antonio rallied his crew on the main deck as they readied to set sail back to Spain. They hadn't had a chance to restock supplies, much less to rest, relax and partake in the pleasures of sin.

He looked over the faces of his men, the men who had enough faith in him to keep him in the seat of power. The men who allowed him control in battle, who trusted his strategy, trust him to keep them, if not whole, then alive. He might not have been the most ruthless pirate to sail the seas but he was efficient enough, with Gil and Francis and probably a few others keeping him focused and on task, to ensure the crew was happy. He scored them enough wealth to prevent a mutiny and was kind enough not to inspire hatred and fear within his own crew.

"We set sail for Spain immediately. When we arrive and restock, you're free to do as you please. I'm granting a two day leave and then it's back to the Caribbean. Enjoy your wine, women and good food while you can get it!"

The men cheered, hooting and hollering and laughing, stomping their feet and clapping. Antonio tipped his hat with a grin, feather waving in the sea breeze and continued his speech. Behind him, Francis spied movement in the crowd that didn't fit and narrowed his eyes when he saw Carlos talking to Hercules. Carlos almost never spoke over his Captain. Everyone in the crew had agreed that it was poor manners.

Something wasn't right.

Francis stepped away, meandering slowly in their direction.

"Gentlemen, what seems to be the problem?"

Carlos jumped. "Shit, you startled me. Nothing. Hercules was watching the girl. I was asking why he came up."

"Antonio doesn't like it if we don't come when we're summoned," Hercules said in his quiet, halting way. They had to strain to hear him properly over the noise. "He gets sad if we miss his speeches."

"Ah, _mon ami_," Francis chuckled, resting a not entirely innocent arm around the Greeks shoulders. "I'm sure he'd make an exception this time. For her safety. Go on."

Hercules shrugged and nodded, his cat cracking open one eye to glare from his arms.

Francis shook his head and decided to watch the rest of the show from down here with the rest of the men. Antonio may have been largely oblivious to everything in life, but he was good at boosting the moral of his crew.

The roars of laughter and agreement were cut short prematurely by a pained yell from the gun deck and Hercules dragging one of the many A.B.S they employed. One of the new ones by Francis' guess. He was one of the less savoury ones that hadn't yet been schooled on how the _Maria Cristina _was run. He thought he remembered someone mentioning his name was James or some such. They called him Jim.

Jim's nose was bleeding heavily, obviously broken and his eye was red and beginning to swell. He yelped when Hercules dropped him to the floor.

"What's going on?" Antonio demanded, jumping down the stairs to the lower main deck and pushing through the throngs of people with Gil chasing his heels.

"Caught him trying to attack the girl. Dumbass had her restrained against the bars." Hercules frowned and kicked him in the ribs, listening to his moans. His cat, prowling behind him, hissed, ears pressed flat. "She gave him the shiner."

"Gil, Francis, take care of this piece of shit," Antonio commanded, voice growing cold and low. "I want him writhing before you kill him."

"Aye, Captain," his Quarter masters replied. Gil threw him a jaunty salute. He grabbed Jim's wrists and Francis took hold of his ankles. Red eyes flicked to a specific face in the crowd, wide violet eyes meeting his. He winked and waggled his eyebrows.

"That's still my cousin, _mon ami_," Francis said, purposefully jostling the man to unbalance Gilbert.

"Your cousin, my Birdy," Gil replied unconcernedly, letting the whining body drop when Francis did. "And the main reason no one on this ship is permitted to take a woman against her will. Can't have these swine getting ideas, _ja_?"

"_Oui."_

**X**

Antonio stopped at the Queens cell, tucked along with two others in an isolated corner of the storage area, separated by a hastily erected wall, staring at the crumpled young woman. He unlocked the door with a key from a ring on his belt and knelt, shuffling forward.

"I'm sorry," he said, slowly removing his coat, keeping his movements as nonthreatening as possible and draping it over her shoulders. One strap of her thin white nightgown had been torn apart completely, exposing more than Antonio was strictly comfortable with and a small gash ran down her chest to the curve of her right breast. "My crew is usually very good at remembering their manners. I know it's no consolation but I will not allow something like this to happen again."

"They told me I would be safe," she whimpered, pulling the heavy fabric tighter around her. A wretched sob shook her body. "Carlos promised nothing would happen. Don't you dare try to make the same fucking promise!"

"Come here," Antonio coaxed, carefully scooping her into his arms. She tensed and began to thrash against his hold, kicking and flailing and scratching.

"Let me go!" she screamed. Her knee came up and hit Antonio's nose. He grunted and took a second to be thankful that she couldn't achieve the proper leverage or angle to break it.

"Please, let me help you."

"I don't want your help you stinking bastard! Let me go!" She sobbed, voice cracking. "I want to go home!"

"I can't allow that."

She fought tooth and nail against him until they reached the main deck. Then her yells were drowned out by the wails of the man who had accosted her. Huge, teary hazel eyes blinked and he eased her back to the ground, leading her towards the noise.

"Rape is, under no circumstances, permitted aboard my ship. My crew respects that because they respect me as well as the consequences that will befall them should they fail to follow my rule," Antonio explained fondly. Around them the men jeered, chuckled and grimaced.

Gilbert held down the perpetrators hands as Francis casually pulled a rope threaded through a small circular hook attached to the main mast. It was tied around Jim's testicles. Gil sported a vicious grin while Francis watched indifferently, torchlight dancing in his eyes.

"You reap what you sew," she murmured, turning her face away when flesh separated and an agonized shriek disrupted the gentle lapping of the waves. Francis and Gilbert tossed him overboard squirming.

"You're in no danger from anyone here, _cosita_," Antonio assured her. "Please believe me."

She didn't speak.

Antonio sighed and led her to his cabin. He'd stay in the crews quarters tonight.

**X**

"Mattea, I want you to stay with her tonight," Antonio called, dropping onto the bottom step of the stairway leading to the Captains quarters. He removed his boots, hat and gloves and rolled up his sleeves. "I'll manage the rigging tonight while Carlos gets us routed and sailing. I want you to find out what you can about her and do all you can to ease her enough to sleep."

Mattea resettled her glasses on her nose and slipped down from the shrouds. Her bare feet slapped against the wet deck as she walked to the stern where the Captains quarters were located.

"Aye Captain."

In the corner of her eye she could see Antonio salute smartly at her back and hoist himself up the shrouds to replace her. She hoped he wouldn't slip and fall.

Strong arms, bright red from the unrelenting sun wrapped around her waist and pulled her into the hallway leading to the officers quarters. Chapped lips pressed insistent kisses down the side of her throat.

"Mm, fancy a quicky Birdy? It's not often you come down from your perch."

"Gil, come on." Mattea swatted at the wandering hands inching along the curves of her waist and hips. "Antonio asked me to stay with our esteemed guest. That poor girl probably needs company that can relate to her experiences and that doesn't have a penis. She's been through a lot and it's mostly been at the hands of men."

"I know that Birdy, but not even a little making out?" Gil whined pitifully. He was pouting when she craned her head around to look at him.

"Tomorrow. I promise." She turned around completely and wrapped her arms around his hips, staring imploringly at him.

"Ach, fine, all right, just no cow eyes, please."

"Gilbert, are you implying something?" She demanded, mock offended.

"Of course not," he replied innocently. "I would never! I'm stating a documented fact. I have pictures. I could make a slide show."

"Jerk!" Mattea laughed quietly, punching him gently on the shoulder. "I have to go. Goodnight."

"Night Birdy. Love you."

"I love you too. See you in the morning." Mattea paused as she passed his chest. "I'm stealing a shirt."

**X**

Mattea knocked gently on the door and waited patiently for an answer. It came after two minutes and thirteen seconds of silence. The door cracked open and one suspicious eye peaked through.

"Hi," Mattea greeted softly, waving. "My name's Mattea Williams. You can call me Mattie. Everyone does. May I ask you name?"

"...Lovina."

"It's lovely to meet you Lovina. Can I come in?"

Mattea waited until the Italian woman opened the door and stepped aside before making any move to enter.

"...You're a woman," Lovina murmured, closing and latching the door behind them. "I thought women weren't allowed on crews. Bad luck."

"The aren't for the most part. But I got lucky," Mattea responded. "Would you mind if I changed? Sleeping in wet clothes isn't very pleasant."

"Do what you want. I don't care." Lovina still had Antonio's nice black jacket swallowing her body.

Mattea removed her glasses and placed them on the bolted down nightstand. She untied the red sash around her waist and pulled her large white linen shirt over her head, folding both over the back of a chair to dry. She could see Lovina in her peripheral drawing patterns on the floor with her toe, surreptitiously watching Mattea change.

"Would you like to wear something else? Your clothes are ruined." Lovina whirled away, face red. She shook her head, attempting to hide it with her hair.

Mattea smiled and dug through the chest secured to the foot of Antonio's bed and came back up with a worn silk button up shirt.

"Here," she said, holding it out. "This'll be more comfortable. Besides, green is your colour." She held the smooth fabric against Lovina's dark hair and nodded. "It'll look amazing on you."

"It's a shirt three sizes too big and your Captain's besides," Lovina grumbled. She hesitantly angled her body back towards Mattea. Progress. "Won't he be mad?"

"Not at all. Antonio's not the type of man to punish anyone for anything short of a major offence." Lovina looked as thought she was about to interject so Mattea pushed on. "Maybe we can make this part of your every day dress." She hummed thoughtfully and dumped the shirt in Lovina's hands, going back to the chest. She pulled out a thick brown leather belt and a pair of trousers. "I'll get you a bra when we land in Spain and these should do well in the mean time if you'd like. Try them."

Lovina gaped, speechless. "Are you serious?"

Mattea shrugged apologetically. "Sorry. They're all I can give you for now."

"No no, I mean, you're really going to raid your Captains clothes to clothe a prisoner? Without any thought of the consequences?"

"Yup."

"Why?!"

"You're a forced man- woman." She set the bundle of clothes on the bed and fetched a corked jug of rum and two small silver tumblers. "Antonio won't let you go just yet. For your safety and ours." She poured a finger of alcohol into each cup and handed Lovina one. "Drink. Maybe it'll help."

Lovina stared at it blankly and tossed back the liquor abruptly, face screwing up as it burned down her throat. She coughed but held out her cup for a refill, determined. Mattea obliged and sipped her own. Lovina tapped her fingers along the side of her cup. She looked like she was working up the nerve to say something. Mattea gave her time to think.

"Does it help you?" she asked finally.

"Pirates-" Mattea paused, wondering how to articulate her thoughts on the subject. "We're a nasty lot. We do things no one would be proud of, all of us for different reasons. We pillage, and murder- ruthlessly. There's a lot weighing on our consciences. So we drink, and have sex, and that helps taker the edge off I guess."

"You said us," Lovina pointed out quietly, twisting her cup.

"I did," Mattea responded. She downed the rest of the rum and poured herself another. The boat rocked on a particularly large wave. "I've never been given to violence. I've never even raised my voice. But I've done things with this crew- things a decent person would call despicable, and disgusting and inhuman. I've done them for my Captain, my crew mates, my lover and myself. This life isn't always about the offensive. You have to defend yourself too."

If Mattea's smile was a tad lovestruck she wasn't ashamed about it.

"Lover?"

"You've met him. Gilbert."

"Wait wait," Lovina held up a hand, "you're fucking the _albino_? Why?!"

Mattea blushed and giggled. She unhooked her bra and let it drop to the floor, heedless of her partial nudity and Lovina's flustered protests. Living on a ship in a single room with a male dominated group had gone a long way towards curing a simple thing like modesty. She shoved down the shorts she wore to accommodate the summer Mediterranean heat and tugged on Gil's red shirt. When she slid her glasses back on up her nose Lovina was staring enviously at her chest.

"He's a good man. A little rough around the edges perhaps but he's been kind to me. Believe it or not he's very giving." Mattea grinned bashfully.

"What like- in bed?" Lovina asked skeptically. "I've heard it can be good with men but I've never believed it."

"He's amazing. There's this thing he does with his tongue that gets me every time."

"His tongue- down there?" Lovina's eyes went wide, incredulous. She dropped the ball of clothes and climbed awkwardly onto the bed, shedding the coat. Mattea noticed her wince and re-situate herself against the pillows. She filed that away for later and followed suit, making herself a nest in the blankets at the foot of the bed.

"Yeah. He's really good at it, although it took a bit of practice. Men don't really focus on anything but their own pleasure."

"You can say that again." Lovina's eye roll looked nearly painful. "Bastards."

"But men who are good in bed do exist." Mattea blushed again and leaned forward, lowering her already gentle voice and confiding, "before Gil I had never had an orgasm."

Lovina leaned forward to meet her. "Were you a virgin?" she asked.

"No. I was married to a merchant. My parents sold me to him when I was sixteen." Lovina frowned but didn't interrupt. "His family made maple syrup on the East coast of Canada. We were sailing down to Cuba for our anniversary when the _Maria Cristina _attacked us. They gave the crew the choice to join or die. No one accepted."

"So how did you live?"

"They didn't see me until the end of the raid. Carlos found me, actually, hiding in a cabinet. He wouldn't have realized I was there if he hadn't been poking around." Mattea shook her head, loose hair brushing her shoulders and tickling. "I would've died on that boat if he hadn't found me."

"And did the potato bastard claim you as his?"

"Potato bastard?" Mattea asked, bemused. Lovina scoffed.

"He's German. They like potatoes. He's a bastard. Ergo, potato bastard," she explained hastily. "Now answer!"

"He didn't see me."

"What?!" Lovina gaped at her. "Are you kidding me?!"

"I'm pretty easy to overlook," Mattea admitted, running her fingers over the luxurious comforter. "Nobody looked at me until I volunteered to join the crew. They all stared as if I was insane."

"You'd have to be," Lovina said with a snort, crossing her arms. "So what then?"

"Francis recognized me."

"Francis?"

"He's my cousin. The blond one, Quartermaster alongside Gil. He used to babysit me often as a child. I was closer to him as a little girl than my parents. The only person I was closer with than Franny was my brother."

"Franny?" Lovina guffawed loudly, falling back against the wall. "Are you kidding me?"

"Hush," Mattea admonished lightly. "I was seven. He went back to France when I was twelve. He disappeared on that trip. I hadn't heard from him in seven years until that day."

"So, what, this- Antonio?" At Mattea's affirmation she continued, "recruits him and he drops off the face of the planet only to resurface as the one who fucked up your vacation?"

"Essentially? Yeah."

"That's fucked."

"A little. But it worked in my favour. I hated my husband, my life, more than anything. These men saved me from a life with him and that was more than I could have ever asked of them."

"So how did you and the albino get closer?"

"I made everyone pancakes."

"...What are pancakes?"

Mattea was so flabbergasted she couldn't muster the words to explain.

"I- what?"

"You heard me," Lovina huffed petulantly. "What are they?"

Mattea closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and said, "Tomorrow morning you're eating them. I have the ingredients, bought fresh this morning. I also have a stock of maple syrup I've been hiding from the men and some canned fruit no one cares for. You'll love it."

"If you say so."

"I do." She said it more forcibly than anything else thus far. "Anyway; I made pancakes and Gil had this revelation. Apparently they were the best thing he'd ever eaten and he just had to know exactly what it was. I tried to show him time and again but he never wanted to cook them. He'd only eat them when I made them. You should've seen it when Francis set a plate of crepes in front of him. Gil was practically apoplectic." Mattea smiled fondly. "He stuck to my side after that first time though. He even followed me up into the rafters and nearly fell off. Egotism aside he grows on you. I kissed him up on the shroud."

"_You_ kissed _him?"_ Lovina looked like she couldn't comprehend the idea of willingly kissing a man.

"I really did. He was so surprised he slipped and got tangled in the ropes."

"And then you two just-" Lovina wiggled her fingers and cocked an eyebrow.

"I wanted to. He wanted to take it slow. He insisted in fact. So we did."

Throughout the conversation Lovina had set her cup aside clumsily and tucked her knees to her chest. Her arms were wrapped around her calves and her chin on her knees. A sappy smile had steadily been growing unawares. Hazel eyes blinked sluggishly and struggled to reopen. Mattea stretched, yawned and leaned over the edge of the bed to retrieve the abandoned shirt.

"Here," she said, tugging at the lace hem of Lovina's dirty, torn nightgown. "I'm tuckered out. Let's get some sleep."

Lovina flushed but allowed Mattea to assist with the removal of the garment. Changed and sleepy Lovina crawled beneath the blankets and cuddled with a fluffy pillow. Mattea extinguished the lamp illuminating the room and got in beside her. She laid on her side facing the door with her back to the other woman.

"This okay?"

Lovina replied nonsensically, already dropping off.

Ten minutes passed before Mattea felt a warm weight press against her back. She shuffled around and wound her arms around Lovina, resting her chin on the top of her head. A stray curl tickled her nose but it went ignored as Mattea fell asleep.

It was progress.


End file.
